This is Different
by a. loquita
Summary: From Sam's perspective, she visits General O'Neill following his promotion. SJ


This is Different

Author: a. loquita

Summary: From Sam's perspective, she visits General O'Neill following his promotion. (S/J)

Rating: T

This is different, is all I can think as I enter the room. I've walked into Jack O'Neill's office many times. First as his Captain, then Major, then Colonel. Though I'm still a Colonel, I'm no longer "his" Colonel. And though it's always been an office, it never before has been outside the mountain and all the way across the country in the Pentagon. Yeah, this is different.

I'm proud of him, I really am. It's an incredible accomplishment to reach this rank and responsibility, especially when the man doing it is as insubordinate and stubborn as Jack is. I'm proud that he's here but I miss him terribly back at the SGC. I search my memory wondering if I've taken the time to tell him either of those things in the four months since the promotion.

I'm here in Washington for a briefing that ended 15 minutes ago. In fact, I was a little surprised that the General wasn't in that briefing. Now I understand why. I'm standing in the anteroom to his office, looking at his lovely assistant who is all of about 22 years old, perky, and named "Meyers" according to her uniform. I can hear the General beyond on the phone. It's far enough and the door is partly closed so I can't hear the exact words. But I instantly recognize the tone, barking. Hoo boy, someone on the other end is on General O'Neill's black list right now. It's not a comfortable place to be.

I suggest to the assistant. "Maybe I should go and come back later."

"I'm sure he'll only be a few minutes longer, Colonel." Meyers smiles brightly. I wonder, did I ever look that young? Act that overly bouncy and ready to please superior officers? Geeze.

I raise a brow at a loud expletive suddenly coming from Jack's office. I ask, "How long has it gone on already?"

"Oh, about 45 minutes now."

Wonderful, the man's going to be in a fabulous mood. "Any idea who he's on the phone with?" But I'm not entirely sure I want to know the answer.

The assistant looks at me, curiously. It makes me wonder what this girl has been told about me? Probably, the phone call is information she's not sure if she can share. Meyers is weighing being helpful to me, a Colonel, against the fury going on inside that office ever being directed at her. The General outranks me and probably always will.

Meyers says carefully, "I can't really say."

"I understand." Of course I do, it's not like I'm his superior officer, his wife, or anything else that counts in the mind of this 22-year-old.

Why are my claws coming out with this girl? It's so totally not like me. Probably it's really the frustration of my own life displaced on her. The fact that I can't glance over the briefing room table any time I want, on any day of the week, and look into my favorite pair of brown eyes. Meyers, on the other hand, she gets to see him every day. Yeah, I hate her now.

That instant, the phone slams down. Apparently, conversation very much over.

Meyers pushes a little intercom button and cheerfully supplies, "General, there's a Colonel Carter here to see you."

"Carter." His voice rumbles from the room, not the intercom. His face suddenly appears at his door. "Come in, come in."

"Hi," I smile at him.

The General takes a breath and seems to be drinking in the sight of me. I can tell he's a bit surprised. He knew I would be here today but apparently whatever he's been dealing with– and by that I mean yelling at– has distracted him enough that he forgot.

He says, "I didn't realize what time it was, ah, that you'd be here already."

Yep, I guessed right. Distracted.

I enter the General's office and he closes the door behind me. Before I turn to face him, I sneak a glace around. It's distinctly Jack. There are a few trinkets on the credenza and desk. Mostly things given to him by colleagues including a stone statue from Daniel and a compass my father gave Jack years ago. There are pictures. Most of them were on display in his office at the SGC but one is new. I notice it and smile because I gave it to him just before he left.

As I turn, Jack watches me. After I meet his eyes he continues to just stare. I shift uncomfortably and decide to talk shop.

"So, it sounded pretty bad–" I nod my head toward his phone. "Whatever it was."

"That?" O'Neill scrubs his hands over his eyes. "Yeah, that." He drops them to his sides and looks at me again. "I _so _don't want to talk about that."

"OK."

He closes the distance between us to only inches. Invading my personal space was something that he often did, but now, it's different.

Jack says softly, "Hey."

"Hi." I grin. He's coming back to himself now. Then I remind him, "We really shouldn't… you know… here."

"No?" He asks, surprised.

"You have an assistant outside. Who, by the way, is incredibly young and good-looking."

"She is?" Jack plays the innocence game well. "I hadn't noticed."

I roll my eyes at him.

"Carter… do I detect a hint of jealousy?" He asks, shocked by the mere suggestion.

"What? No." I back-peddle. He gives me a wide smile. Damn, I have just feed his ego in dangerous ways.

"You know," Jack leans in even closer, so his lips are whispering against mine. "I was only gonna kiss you. But if you think it will immediately lead to activities that typically make you scream… Then yeah, we shouldn't do that here."

"I do not scream." Do I?

He smirks. "OK."

Jack meets my lips and I'm lost in a pile of goo. How he can do this to me is impossible for me to understand. It just is. I gave up months ago trying to analyze why it's so very different when Jack O'Neill kisses me compared to any other man that has ever tried before.

Of course, it doesn't help that it's been three weeks since I've last seen him in person. Webcams and phone calls can only do so much and nothing comes close to the feel of his lips on mine. Well, except other stuff, and that's quickly where we're headed.

I pull back. "Jack," I say in a tone meant to remind him that we're in his office of all places. It's no longer illegal but it's still not exactly professional behavior.

"Let's get out of here." He lets go of me and circles his desk. Puttering with this and that for a few minutes.

Then he carries some files with him out to the waiting assistant. Jack hands them to Meyers and runs down a few instructions. At the end of the instructions, he tells her, "I mean it, no phone calls. I don't care what kind of emergency they think it is I'm taking my weekend off."

"Yes, Sir."

He gives Meyers a glare and repeats, "No interruptions." Meyers glances between him and me and back again, before she nods. There's something about seeing this little exchange that makes me enormously happy, seeing Meyers put two and two together. I choose not to evaluate why.

Later, back at his Washington DC townhouse, we lay in his bed naked, sated, and tangled together. So. Much. Better.

My mind drifts with thoughts of Jack. All the things that are different now, both good and bad, float around in my brain. They're like feathers in the wind and I'm not bothering to grasp at any of them. But suddenly one drops out of the air and like a rock, it lands. Hard.

Why is it that we speak only a dozen sentences before we can no longer keep our hands off of each other? It has been four months since this thing started between Jack and I and we're still acting like horny teenagers. Shouldn't it be more than that by now?

I don't even like that I think of it as a "thing." It doesn't even have a name. I know rationally that he likes more than just my body. We talk on the phone but Jack's never been much of a conversationalist. He's trying, but still. I know that we don't see each other in person often enough and that probably causes the physical need for each other to build up. But still.

I say suddenly, "All we do is have sex."

"Let me make sure I get this right, 'cuz you know…" He lazily speaks without lifting his head from where it is resting on my chest. "I'm not as smart as you and all that… The fact that we have sex all the time, that's a bad thing?"

"Jack."

"What?" He twists to look at me. "We waited far too long. We went through hell. I think we deserve this."

"Yes, we do."

Jack grumbles, "I hardly get to see you and when I do, I want to make up for lost time."

"All I'm saying is we never do the typical stuff couples do."

"I got news for ya, Carter, other couples have sex too. Even the ugly ones."

I snort. But I don't allow him to distract me from my point. "Yeah, but they also go out to dinner and… stuff."

"You want me to take you to dinner?"

"Why not?"

"We could just order in whatever you want."

"Jack," I almost whine it. "That's exactly my point. You don't want me out of bed."

"Ever." He confirms.

"And while that's very flattering, it's not exactly healthy for a… you know…"

"Relationship." He supplies. Ah, so it does have a name, apparently.

"Yes."

He frowns for a moment. "Should I allow my fragile male ego to assume from this conversation that you're tired of me already? I've used all my good moves on you and now sex with me is just… routine?"

I roll my eyes. "Absolutely not."

"You really just want me to take you out to dinner?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Sure." Because I'm pretty content where I am right now, for tonight, to stay in this bed with him and make sure that fragile male ego is stroked.

I remind him, "You know, if you're nice enough, funny, and a great date, there might be sex after."

"Might be?" He asks, a little alarmed.

"I'm not making any promises ahead of time. What kind of girl would I be then?"

"Mine."

I chuckle. Yeah, I'm no longer his Colonel. Now I'm simply his. And even better, he's mine. This is different in so many ways, but most of them are good.


End file.
